


Chapter 67 Revisited

by lostintheverse



Category: Carry On Series - Rainbow Rowell
Genre: Emo Tyrannus Basilton "Baz" Pitch, Fluffy Tyrannus Basilton "Baz" Pitch/Simon Snow, M/M, POV Tyrannus Basilton "Baz" Pitch
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-19
Updated: 2019-05-19
Packaged: 2020-03-08 05:27:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,636
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18888088
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lostintheverse/pseuds/lostintheverse
Summary: "I'm not a very good boyfriend," he says. I freeze. Are we seriously about to have this conversation? I mean, his rejection was inevitable, but...I guess I hoped it wouldn't come quite so soon. I sigh and say something caustic. My heart is bursting, there's a weight in my stomach, and it takes every ounce of strength to keep looking bored.A retelling of this scene from Baz's point of view.





	Chapter 67 Revisited

**Author's Note:**

> Baz has such great body language in the whole "I want to be your boyfriend" scene, I always wanted to know more of what was going through his mind. This is one possibility.  
> It has a canon-divergent ending because in my world I like to pretend they get a few weeks of happiness before all the Humdrum shit goes down. Which is also how this story might become a chaptered fic - they go back to Watford, blow everyone's minds, have a few weeks of *ahem* enjoying being roommates in their suite...and THEN all goes to hell. But we'll see.  
> Starts in medias res (obviously).

BAZ

 

Now he’s sitting on my bed, two feet away from me, blustering so earnestly about how he’s not going to be my boyfriend. 

Well, I never thought he would. (Maybe on some level I hoped that’s what he meant by all that we-don’t-have-to-fight nonsense. Or when he came back and said he wanted to roll around and pretend to be happy boyfriends. I guess  _ pretend _ was the key word.)

I’d like to be angry. I’d like to turn on him with cruelty, as I always have when he overwhelms me. But I find I can’t. My heart is too heavy for anything other than crushing disappointment. I’m such a fool.

It occurs to me it could have all been a trick. Pretend to help me, pretend to  _ want  _ me, break down my defenses and then walk away, leaving me broken. It would be the ultimate strategy, and if that’s what he did, it’s over. Our rivalry is over. He won. It’s only his lack of creativity that makes me doubt that he could come up with such a plan. But then again, all that talk last night about how he “doesn’t think” could have been a red herring. Part of the con. Maybe he’s actually brilliant, and this was his scheme all along - a long con. What do I know? Nothing, apparently. Because I was really starting to let myself think this thing between us was real. 

And here he is explaining all the ways it’s not. 

I don’t know what’s worse: him pulling the “it’s not you, it’s me” bullshit by saying he’s a terrible boyfriend...him blaming me by saying I think we’re doomed, Romeo and Juliet style (which I absolutely did NOT think until this moment, but I agree with him because really, what else can I do?)...or him saying he doesn’t think he’s gay. As in, it never could have happened; there was never any real possibility. 

Come to think of it, that might be the worst.

Because he’d ignited something in me I’d never felt before: hope. I genuinely let myself believe this gorgeous, sexy, infinitely-powerful-and-doesn’t-care ray of light was maybe actually a little bit into me. It’s not like I thought he’d ever worship me the way I do him; I just thought he might actually mean it when he kissed me.

I wish he’d let me burn last night.

I want to be mean, say something devastating just to attempt to even the score. I can’t stand being this vulnerable. I hate myself for allowing it. (Who am I fooling? I have zero self control when it comes to my feelings for Simon. I’ve always been completely vulnerable to him, which is why I had to fight him so hard.) I want to curse him. But now that I’ve had a taste of what life could be like with him, I can never go back to pretending to hate him. The jig is up. 

So I can’t curse him. I can’t even curse  _ at _ him. All I can do is stare at my knees and mutter a weak, “no one cares whether you’re gay,” which honestly if he paid any bloody attention, he’d hear how close to tears I am. Not just tears. Full on sobs. Death by crying.

I can feel him staring at me. “What I’m saying is…” His voice cracks just a bit, and then he says something jarring. “I like looking at you.” I have no idea where he’s going with this and I don’t mean to look at him, but I can’t stop by eyes - my eyes have to know what his face is saying since his words make no sense. At least I manage to only side-eye him. Score. Baz: one, Snow: ten thousand. 

And now he’s blustering some more - Crowley, why does his infernal blustering have to be so damn  _ endearing _ ? But what he’s saying - trying to say, anyway - is reviving my hope. Which is foolish. I’m the ultimate fool. He’s probably just jerking me around some more, all part of the plan. He ends up saying he thought he was going to lose his mind while I was living in a coffin. 

“You thought I was plotting against you,” I remind him, because has he  _ forgotten _ how evil he thought I was? How much he hated me? How impossible this entire scenario is? (Okay, maybe I a little bit think we’re doomed, but only because there’s no way Simon Snow could ever be into me. It’s just not how my life works.)

At least he doesn’t deny it. “Yeah. And I missed you.”

_ He  _ missed  _ me _ ? He has no fucking idea. 

“There’s something wrong with you,” I say, but it’s not to be mean. I honestly think there’s something wrong with him. How could he even be thinking what I think (hope) he’s thinking?

“I  _ know, _ ” he says, and he sounds so genuine I immediately want to take it back. I always want to take it back, after I say something hurtful to him. “I want this, if you’ll let me have it,” he says, and the most powerful mage of all time actually sounds a little shy.

My heart is hammering in my ears. This can’t be happening. There’s no fucking way. I look at him full on. Meet his eyes. I cannot take any more confusion.

“What’s  _ this, _ Snow?” 

“ _ This, _ ” he says. “I want to be your boyfriend. Your terrible boyfriend.” And even though it makes much more sense that he was just blustering so much his message got lost than that he’s a brilliant mastermind, I still can’t quite believe it.  So I stare at him, trying to catch something - anything - a flicker in his eyes, a quirk of his lips (Crowley, his lips - I want to kiss him again so badly it hurts) - anything that would indicate he’s fucking with me. Or that he’s gone around the bend. Or that he’s been possessed. Anything that might destroy this infernal hope that’s soaring inside me again.

Nothing. Just wide, blue-eyed earnestness. Just a question. A hopeful question.

Thank goodness for the knock at the door, because it forces time to kick back in. It keeps me from saying something stupid; it gives me a minute to process the roller coaster ride he just took me on.

And now he’s asking stupid questions, and I answer him because honestly I’m just powerless. I want to connect with him even if it’s just on a surface level. And also, maybe more than anything, I want to say yes. My mind is still reeling, my heart racing, and I want to say yes, he can have it. It’s already his. But I have no idea if he understands what he’s getting himself into. If we are really going to be together (Crowley, is it really possible? Is this really happening?)...if we are going to be together, he’s got to understand, completely, that I am a vampire. I know he knows, but he needs to  _ know _ . I simply cannot handle saying yes to him, only to have him bail the minute he sees my fangs. 

So I tell him. I tell him why I don’t eat around people. He gets in my face, trying to see my fangs and I shove him away out of habit, but it’s got no oomph...my oomph when it comes to rejecting Snow is gone, damn him.

And as much as I dread what might happen, I know now’s the time to find out. Once he gets a look at my fangs, once he fully understands exactly how much of a freak and a reject I am, how completely hideous and unlovable, he’ll run screaming. Or not. And if he doesn’t, I’ll let myself trust him. I’ll let myself believe he wants me. I won’t look back. 

So I sigh, because I know this might be the end of everything, and I open my mouth and let him see. 

And he doesn’t run screaming. He gets closer. He wants to touch them. I’ve just shown my arch nemesis the thing I hate most about myself, and he’s literally crawling up onto my body to get closer. He’s amused. He’s fascinated. He calls me a mutant, which is so completely Simon I can’t convince myself he’s not for real anymore. My heart is pounding again. Maybe. Maybe? 

Yes.

And that realization, that internalization of the truth (he wants me he wants me HE WANTS ME), suddenly makes all that stuttering seem absolutely adorable. And my heart is soaring.

I offer to share my food with him, because his appetite is insatiable, and also because I think he’s my boyfriend now. Which is simply irreconcilable with the miserable wretch that is me. And yet, here we are. In a last-ditch effort to run him off if he’s not serious, I take a huge bite, letting him get a good look at the monster that I am. “Wicked,” is all he says, his eyes full of stars. 

I can’t meet his eyes when I say it. When I give myself to him. I’m too overwhelmed, too out of my league. Drowning in a sea I thought I’d never be allowed into. And more head-over-heels in love than I’ve ever been. 

But then I do look up, because I can feel him staring at me. And he’s beaming. I swear, this guy is the sun. He’s the brightest thing in my world. And he’s looking right at me, exuding all that light, all that  _ sweetness _ , and I feel the tension leave my body. I can see in his wide smile, in his dancing eyes, that he’s overjoyed. 

Aleister Crowley, this  _ is _ a charmed life. 

He doesn’t take a bite, yet. He grins at me while I chew, and I’m grinning back, and as soon as I swallow he leans in and kisses me. Not a passionate kiss, not like the conquering kisses he’s been bringing me to my knees with for the past 24 hours. It’s a sweet kiss. A simple kiss. A promise. A laying-claim-to-what’s-his kiss.

What’s always been his. 

I want to shove the tray aside. I want to grab him and shove my tongue down his throat. I can do that now, right? If he’s my boyfriend, I can snog him if I want to, right? (I should probably wait for my fangs to retract.) But isn’t that part of the deal? I’ve never had a boyfriend. I’m not 100% sure how it works. 

But he’s eating now. Devouring my dinner like he didn’t just eat half of the food in our house an hour ago. I had been famished, but my appetite is gone. My appetite for food, anyway. I stare at him as he wolfs my food like a starving hyena, grinning at me all the while.

“Aren’t you going to eat?” he says with a mouth full of stuffing. A little piece falls out of his mouth and lands on my duvet. God, he’s a slob. I pluck it up and put it in my mouth and say, “Can I kiss you if I want to?”

“‘Course,” he says thickly. He finishes chewing and swallowing, and takes a huge drink of milk right out of the pitcher, and then he grins that sparkly Simon grin and says, like it’s the most obvious thing in the world, “That’s one of the perks of being someone’s boyfriend. You get to kiss them.” 

“You’re a prat,” I respond, and he laughs, and then I lean over the tray and kiss him.  Thank Crowley my fangs have just retracted, because he kisses me back full-force. We only stop when the tray tilts and my dinner comes perilously close to landing in his lap. A little milk sloshes out of the pitcher and lands in the potatoes. 

He takes another huge bite and says, with a mouthful of food, “I’m crazy about you.”

I shake my head. “You’re going to say something like that while your mouth is full? You  _ are _ a terrible boyfriend. ” He laughs then, his mouth so full I’m sure he’s going to spray food all over me. I make a sound of disgust, but I don’t mean it. I’m way too happy to mean it.

_ Happy _ is the understatement of the year. I’m fucking gleeful.

He shrugs, and drinks milk out of the pitcher again. “Can’t say I didn’t warn you.” Then he leans over the tray and kisses me again, briefly. “It’s not like it’s the only time I’m ever going to say it. Now eat. I want to get this tray out from between us and this food is too good to go to waste.” 

I shake my head in disbelief because this is all too good to be true. And yet it  _ is _ true. And I don’t know how to process that. 

Then, I eat. Not because he told me to, but because suddenly my appetite is back with a vengeance. And as we sit there stuffing our faces he puts his free hand on my thigh like it’s the most normal thing in the world, and I almost melt right into my bed.  

When we finally finish, I climb off the bed and put the tray outside my door, and though I don’t want to seem presumptuous, I lock it. I turn around and he’s turned around on my bed so he can watch me, and he’s got this look on his face. “What?” I ask him.

“I like everything about you in that suit,” he says, and I feel myself blush. I never knew a vampire could blush until he came along. “And yet…”

I stand right where I am, just taking in the sight of Simon Snow - my  _ boyfriend  _ Simon Snow - sprawled on my bed, irresistible in a gray suit. “And yet…?” I prompt, when he doesn’t finish.

“And yet I just want to take it off you,” he whispers, and that sends me over the edge and next thing I know I’m crawling on top of him, my tongue in his mouth as we pull the coats off each other, undoing each other’s ties and buttons and our own ties and buttons and it’s all just a mess, a glorious mess. I start kissing down his neck and his skin is salty and sweet. He lifts his chin so I can get a better angle, and then it suddenly hits me. I stop and pull away enough to meet his eyes.

“You trust me,” I murmur, my voice full of awe and without a trace of doubt. His pupils are blown, his eyes wide, his mouth open as he pants and tries to make sense of my words. 

“W-what? Why did you stop?” And he tugs at me, just the slightest bit, like he wants me to shut up and get back to what I’d been doing. And I want that, too, but first I want to be sure he understands.

“I just had my mouth all over your throat, Simon.” 

“Yes. Please get back to that.”

“ _ Simon _ . I’m a  _ vampire _ .” I hear myself giggle, and in some detached part of my brain I realize what an uncharacteristic sound it is. “And you  _ bared your neck _ .” 

He blinks at me a few times, then grins and tugs on me again, more insistently this time. “You’re right. I trust you, and my neck is bared. Now please put your mouth on it, my creepy vampire boyfriend.” 

I can’t help it. I swoop down like I’m going to bite him. And the boy doesn’t flinch. Far from it. He pulls me tighter and laughs freely and I giggle again, awash with joy, and suck so hard he has a bruise the color of ink the next morning. 

 

**Author's Note:**

> Find me on Tumblr at [rareandbeautifulthing](https://www.tumblr.com/blog/rareandbeautifulthing).
> 
> My first fic here! 
> 
> Many thanks to @the_honeyed_hufflepuff for her guidance on how to post. Her input made me realize I'd been waaaay overthinking it and getting in my own way (per usual).


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